The Call of Dawn
by FruitlessFruit
Summary: I was born a good boy, but one must never forget the finer twists of fate that define us. After eight years of imprisonment in Solitude, I changed in ways I would never have dreamed of, and none of them were positive. But who said that's a bad thing?


**Chapter One: A Good Day to Die**

The air was much better here; dry and crisp with the scent of pine on the breeze, so unlike my quarters in the dungeons of Solitude that had been my home for eight long, torturous years. Down there it was musty and dark, with the faint scent of death always in my nostrils. For so long, I'd grown accustom to that awful place. Now, on the outside, I found my senses being hammered at by all these new sensations, and my knees felt weak.

My fingertips sought out one of the stone walls that made up the city, and I screwed my eyes shut for a moment. It was all I could do to keep from collapsing, and it took several minutes before I could move forward. The light was still painful on my eyes, giving me a headache, but I continued onwards until I found a shady bench, slumping into it, and placing my head in between my knees. I released a faint groan, and stayed there a little longer, uncaring of the stares I received from those around me.

I must have looked awful. My prison uniform, or so it was called, was little more than a burlap sack that'd melded to my body shape, and brown footwraps that did nothing to protect my feet from the heat of the stones, or the sharp pebbles that would jab into my soles. The citizens around me were wary, unsettled by my presence. I simply glowered at them, not wishing to be observed as I sat here. It was here that a decision had to be made, for better or for worse.

Lifting my hands, I scratched my greasy hair with leathery palms, and looked in the direction of the temple. Then I switched my gaze to the inn, where the light hum of cheerful people danced to my ears. Frowning, I realized that I could afford neither.

How strange to think that eight years prior this was so familiar and stone walls that once offered me security was now just as much a prison as the one I was just released from. The city of Solitude never does change much. Most of the buildings are made of solid stone, high towers, and very much inspired by the Imperial City's architecture. It was meant to be foreboding, powerful, and impenetrable fortress on the edge of the Sea of Ghosts.

This safe haven, this warm and comfortable home absent of the threat of pillaging or the numerous foul beasts that walked the lands of Skyrim was now cold. All that I once knew had faded. Merchants, soldiers, men and women once kind and friendly now stared through me like I was invisible, and I tried not to feel hurt. I've a tendency to wish the impossible.

After I mustered enough motivation, I got to my feet and decided to take a look around Solitude, the place of my birth, my life, and my imprisonment. It was as much a part of me as I was of it, and I was once a very typical citizen and you really could not pick me out of a crowd. I share the dark hair and olive skin of most other Imperials, and my features are all quite typical. A straight nose, round chin, and the broad shoulders… well I used to have the broad shoulders found in much of the working class in Skyrim.

Prison has a way of… distinguishing you.

Perhaps not so much physically, but mentally, your mannerisms change. Before I'd been friendly, humorous, and a bit of a ladies man (I'd bedded my share of the looser breed), and an overall optimistic person. I was Arenar Mercius, the model citizen. However, I could feel the change in me when I left behind my cell… a feeling much akin to that of a dog who has grown accustom to being tethered to a stake.

And like that dog, I was fearful and anxious, unsure of what to do, and far from scared to bite those who chose to trifle with me. I had a distance that I maintained with these strangers, not allowing them to pass it, and shying when they got too close. The large crowds were avoided, and eventually I found myself seeking solace in the empty alleyways. In these backstreets I hid, walking unnoticed until the black fingers of night spread across the baby blue sky, and awoke the beast of Solitude. A creature, that I soon would encounter myself.

It'd been when I was rounding the corner, and found myself watching a robbery. I slipped back to the cover of the wall, but these men seemed far too interested in their prize than to notice me. The man they had was of a bulkier build, but it seemed to be more muscle than fat, and he carried that wealthy look. He wore fine clothes, and had a coin purse jingling tantalizingly from his belt. I narrowed my eyes, and watched their moves.

Both men were Nords, while the noble was an Imperial man. The Nords, while not particularly shabby, did not seem to be terribly well off. There were marks of hunger on their faces, and their blonde hairs fell in greasy strands in their faces. One was holding the noble's arms behind his back, pinning him, while the other seemed to take pleasure in kicking around the poor man. Apparently it wasn't enough to just take his money. I noted that the larger of the two was leaning over, saying something to their victim that wasn't quite audible.

There was a fleshy thump as they kicked him one more time in the side, before leaving him on the ground. His nose was bleeding, and he simply lay on the ground as they walked away, waiting until they were gone before moving. I slunk back as the men turned the corner, heading in the opposite direction of me, laughing as they walked.

The taller of the two was holding the noble's coin purse, chuckling as he walked and jingled the coins, "Hah. Godrel, that was quite a mean grip you got. Fat old [I]mperials are quite the feisty kind."

His companion snorted, "Pah, hardly broke a sweat! So what are we gon' do with that gold?"

The taller Nord looked at the bag, then shrugged, "How's I keep I in my place for the night, and we hit the cathouse tomorrow, eh?"

Godrel licked his lips at the idea, and nodded, "Fair enough, Hulgar. You've always been better with money than I have. But you better not be keepin' any of it to yerself!"

I'd been following them as they carried out their conversation, always a few feet behind, and always concealed by the shadows cast off by the buildings. There were plenty of old crates to conceal myself behind, and used when I got too close, or when the men felt like they were being followed. I couldn't lose them. I had to keep on them, to keep on Hulgar.

The sound of coins jingling in the velvet bag was mocking me, the way that Hulgar carried it high in the air, and his haughty nature. He beat the man for gold to spend in a brothel… he didn't even need those septims. If anyone needed that money, I did. I would have that gold, that little satchel of coins, and I could restart. I could leave Solitude, and perhaps go to some place like Falkreath, and live my life out in peace. That would all start here.

Eventually, the two men finally parted, heading to their respective homes on different ends of the city, and I could follow the gold more closely. Hulgar was much larger than I, but I am not a very big man to begin with. Most Nord women are taller than me; and some Imperials girls as well, though not in equal frequency.

I avoided the street lamps as I stalked the man home, breathing lightly to conceal my presence. Hulgar walked with a much heavier step, and was much noisier than I when he moved. Every movement caused a jingle, clink, or clang with all of the metal attached loosely to his body in keys, coins, and a long steel sword. My eyes narrowed as he approached a door, pulling his own keys loose from his belt, and disappearing into the stone house.

A rat scurried by my feet as I found a spot to lay low in for a little while, and screwed my eyes shut for a moment as dark thoughts permeated my desperate mind, sounds of jingling taunting my ears. I was alone with the darkness once more here, and even the light of hope shone black. Moments passed, and I scratched at my scalp, unable to make a decision. Then… I was inside his house.

Inside of the house, I looked around, searching for the sack. Hazel eyes wide and frantic, I searched the home, turning over books and plates to try and find the item. Every second was painful in my trespassing, and I could hear the blood pulsing in my ears.

Creak. Weight on the wooden floorboards… Grabbing a knife from the messy table, I try to find a hiding place, finding a spot beside a cabinet that was the only source of cover in the kitchen. Maybe if I stayed still… The broad shoulders of a Nord filled the doorway as he stepped through, glancing around with sleepy eyes. Every little squeak is like a needle jabbing into my heart. Slowly he stepped forward, clearly suspicious. My hand squeezed the handle of the blade in hand until my knuckles were white, and I could hear my molars grinding together.

Then I felt a coolness come over me; something that could only be described as liquid hatred, and my tight grip loosened. My jaw slackened, and my eyes fixed on him, watching his every step forward. Like a cat, I primed myself for the pounce. Seconds passed before I launched myself onto his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around him as my knife fought towards his throat. I wrapped my thighs around his torso, and bit down on the man's ear as he let out a pained cry. Opportunity was seized as his grip loosened, and I felt the blade slide deliciously into the fleshy part of his neck, just below the throat. Hulgar was still squirming, but I thrust the blade up towards his head, though it didn't move particularly far up because of the thick muscle, and this being a mere kitchen knife.

The Nord had fell to the ground, so I released my hold on him, but I could still hear the gurgling sound coming from his throat. I grunted with dissatisfaction, and pulled on the brute's blonde hair to pull his face into view. Retrieving the blade from his throat, I jabbed the weapon into Hulgar's eye, before turning towards the door; sounds of voices.

A muffled shout came from outside, "Sir! Are you alright in there? We heard a shout!"

Flight came quickly as I darted towards the back door, and stumbled out into the alleyway. Few guards were on patrol in this area, much to my relief, and I darted away from the main streets. Bare feet pounded against the stone like the drumming of my heartbeat. The game was afoot, as I heard the shouts for other guards. They must have found the body…

Adrenaline carried my feet upon wings, as I turned a corner, before stumbling and landing in a pile of garbage.

* * *

**A/N:**Thanks for reading. A little shout-out to my awesome beta who put up with me during a long hiatus, and then returned to me with a fairly quick reply. I will be working on Chapter 2 soon. Seeing as most of the story is outlined, I should be fairly prompt about updates unless I state otherwise.

_Actual Word Count: 1,935_


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